


The Ache for Home Lives in All of Us

by Ellegrine



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha Tim Drake, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Tim Drake, Depression, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Kidnapped Jason Todd, M/M, Major Character Injury, Never Repost My Work Anywhere, Non-Consensual Touching, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Jason Todd, POV Jason Todd, Protective Bruce Wayne, Protective Damian Wayne, Protective Dick Grayson, Protective Tim Drake, Sick Jason Todd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-02-26 11:05:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22583644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellegrine/pseuds/Ellegrine
Summary: Jason Todd wouldn’t admit it, but hewanted to go home.
Relationships: Bruce Wayne & Jason Todd, Damian Wayne & Jason Todd, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Tim Drake/Jason Todd
Comments: 42
Kudos: 1012





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from the following quote by Maya Angelou: “The ache for home lives in all of us, the safe place where we can go as we are and not be questioned.”

Jason Todd wouldn't admit it, but _ he wanted to go home. _

He wanted to curl up in the Wayne Pack Nest, with Tim Drake tucked into his side, arm thrown possessively across him. He wanted Damian al Ghul Wayne to ball up against the small of his back, like he used to do when they were with the League of Assassins. He wanted to open his eyes to slits and see Dick Grayson leaning against the wall, eyes alert and intent — even when there was no safer place in Gotham; the security surrounding the Wayne Pack Nest was _ intense. _

Jason wanted to lean back against Bruce Wayne as the Pack Alpha's chest rumbled a soothing purr. He wanted his dad’s thick, calloused fingers to stroke through his hair, pet him, and let him know that he was <strike> treasured-precious-worthy-wanted</strike> safe. 

“I hate this.”

Instead, Jason huddled in the safe house he had retreated to when he got sick and keened. No one answered. No one was _ there _ to answer. Because Jason hadn’t told anyone he was starting to feel ill and he had never shown anyone his new safe house. 

Not even Tim, the Alpha in the Pack he trusted to _ always _ have his back without reservation. 

No matter how much time passed, Jason couldn't forget that he had attacked Tim and Damian while Pit Mad. He would never let himself forget. 

Jason was terrified that if he got a fever he would start to hallucinate and attack the Pack again. He couldn't live through that again. _ He couldn't. _ Omegas were supposed to hold the Pack together, not tear it apart.

He keened louder than ever; its echoes in the room were his only answer.

“They hate me,” Jason whispered, chest aching.

It wasn’t true. He knew it wasn’t. That didn’t stop him from thinking or saying it.

He had been holed up alone for over a week now, and he wasn't getting any better. If anything, he was getting sicker. He didn't even have the energy to eat the protein bars he had dropped inside the nest before collapsing into it. And it was more effort than it was worth to force even the smallest sip of water down his throat. 

“... I hate me.”

Wouldn't it be easier if he just.... Would anyone even _ notice? _ Had anyone even realized that Red Hood hadn't been out on patrol in days? If they had, did they even _ care? _

_ Why should they? _

Jason was the one who constantly told them he didn't want to come home, no matter how many times they asked. He was the one who said, "We're not Pack!" and "I’m not interested!" and "Get off!" and "Go away!" 

He didn't really _ mean _ any of it. He wanted them closer. Jason wanted them as close as they could possibly get. He wanted to actually act as the Wayne Pack Omega, not just be the Wayne Pack Omega in name.

He wanted to be able to comfort them, to be a source of trust. Jason wanted to cuddle them all in the Wayne Pack Nest, open the Pack Bonds as far as he could, and revel in love and safety. He wanted them to be together!

But —

What if he let them get closer and he hurt them again? What if he snapped and accidentally killed one of them? What if he murdered his own Pack? His dad? His brother? His pup? His … Tim? _ What if? _

There were too many _ what ifs? _ for Jason to take a chance on a normal day. 

Now, though, a week into shivering and whining and keening and having no one answer, Jason felt himself slipping. It was starting to feel like _ they _ had abandoned _ him, _and not the other way around. 

He took a deep breath and squeezed his eyes shut, but it did nothing to calm him.

This was _ ridiculous! _ They hadn’t abandoned him! In no way was it their fault that they weren't with him. He hadn't told any of them that he was sick. Not a single person. Not even _ Tim. _ And he had purposefully hidden himself in a safe house they might never find, even with all of Batman's resources and Oracle's help. 

Jason was born and bred in Crime Alley, and he knew how to _ truly _ go off-the-grid.

“I-I—”

The water bottle in his hand shook, and then fell from his grasp and spilled water all over him and the nest. The wrong nest. The pitiful imitation of what he wouldn’t let himself have.

And _ that _ was the last straw. 

Some things were more important than his pride and his fears and all the _ what ifs? _ in the world. 

Jason dropped his cellphone four times before he got it unlocked. And it was only because he had pre-programmed phone numbers he could call by tapping a photo that he was able to call anyone at all; because with how his fingers shook, he wouldn't have managed to tap out an entire phone number correctly.

The phone was answered before it finished ringing once. 

"Jason‽" Tim’s voice was thick with Alpha grit. 

Jason surrendered to his instincts and keened, an Omegan cry _ begging _ for his Alpha to come comfort-love-cherish-protect. 

_ "Tell me where you are!" _

The force of the Alpha-Command rang through the speaker with such intensity that Jason glanced around the room, thinking Tim had managed to teleport somehow. He didn’t see him.

"Tim?" he slurred. 

Jason tried to inhale deeply to scent the room, but he couldn't smell anything with his stuffed nose. He refused to dwell on how terrifying that was — on how he wouldn't be able to smell someone sneaking up on him in his weakened state. 

That wouldn’t happen, right? He could hear Tim. That meant he was safe.

_ "Jason. Address. Now." _

He rattled it off slowly, tongue tripping over the numbers and words. Why was it so hard to think? He hated it. It reminded him of the debilitating Pit Madness. 

Oh, no. Was Tim coming here? 

What if...? What if—? _ What if? _

“No. No. No. No.”

Jason dropped the phone and tried to push the sweat-soaked blankets off of him. He had to — had to — get out? Get away? He couldn't trust himself when his head was blurry and muzzy and — 

The blankets felt weighted, as if moving them were meant to be a Herculean task that only a demigod could accomplish. He attempted to shove them away, but his hands didn't cooperate. They were so cold and shaky that he couldn't properly grasp the blankets. 

It was <strike> humiliating</strike> enraging. 

Jason felt so helpless that he wanted to scream. Why wasn't anything going right? Why couldn't he do just _ one thing right? _ Maybe if he got enough things right, made the moral choice enough times, he could _ finally _ trust himself to return to the Manor?

He just — tears dripped down his flushed, hot cheeks — he just — “I want to go home!”

If only he could — Jason blinked once. Twice. 

Tim was there. 

"Hey, Jason, relax. It's just me. Relax," Tim commanded as he stroked a hand through the hair plastered to Jason's forehead. "This is serious. You're burning up." 

Jason mewled and turned his head, even though it made him nauseous, so he could nuzzle into Tim's hand. He loathed that he couldn't smell Tim, couldn't enjoy the pleasure that filled him every time Tim renewed the scent-marking he ensured was always on Jason. 

He treasured the way it blended their scents together. As if … as if they were Mates.

Jason would never admit that he _ loved it, _ that he loved smelling like Tim and being Marked as his, because there was no way that Tim meant it in a romantic way. Tim was fierce and smart and powerful and a High Society Alpha and when he finally took a Mate, it wouldn't be an Omega dragged out of the mire and scum of Crime Alley by the generosity of Bruce Wayne.

"You couldn't be more wrong," Tim said, determined-resolute-fierce. 

Jason froze. Had he ... had he said all of that out loud? His cheeks became even hotter.

Tim snickered and stroked Jason's hair. "Yes, Jason, and you're still doing it." 

Before Jason could do more than splutter incoherently — his cheeks were red because he was sick; he _ wasn't _ blushing — Tim scooped Jason up in his arms. He didn't even stagger under Jason's full weight. 

It <strike>was</strike> _wasn't _the hottest thing Jason had seen all year.

Tim kissed his forehead and said, "We're going to revisit this conversation when you're feeling better, Jason." 

That was a good sign, right? 

Jason wished his head wasn’t so foggy, so he could be sure that meant what he thought it sounded like. Because it sounded like Tim wanted to keep him, to Mate him, even after what Jason did. Could … could that actually be possible?

Tim's arms tightened around him. "Because you've been _ mine _ since I was a pup. Bruce and Dick might have patrolled with you, but you're _ my Robin."_

Jason, who was so sick and tired of fighting his desire for Pack, gave in. Because Tim was _ the best _ kind of Alpha. And Tim wouldn't stand by and let Jason hurt the Pack on accident or on purpose if they were Mated. 

_“Your _ Robin," he whispered, with a clumsy tongue through parched lips. 

_“My _ Robin.” Tim kissed Jason’s cheek. “Let’s go, Jason.”

Jason let Tim take him home — where he had always belonged — and hoped for a brighter future.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set in the same 'verse. Time skip from the previous chapter.

“Hood!”

Jason flinched away from Batman’s reaching hands, even though he didn’t get far. The chains that bound him to the chair that was bolted to the floor clanked as he jerked as far away as he possibly could. It wasn’t far enough.

The crowbar the Joker had been beating him with lay on the ground only a few feet away, still wet with his blood. The Joker’s taunting laughter still echoed in the room as Robin struggled to get a gag in his mouth to shut him up.

“Hood?” Batman whispered, voice  _ almost gentle. _

“Stay back!” Jason ordered.

The optics on the Batman suit narrowed. “A bomb? Trap?” He started circling the chair.

“No!” 

Jason hated the way the chains tightened around his neck whenever he spoke. It felt like non-stop choking that wasn’t quite brutal enough to kill him or knock him out. But if Batman circled around behind him, Jason was going to have a panic attack or a flashback.

Or both.

The Joker had played it different this time, attacking from Jason’s blind spot behind him. Jason spent the entire time he was captive not knowing whether to expect the crowbar or the Joker’s tongue against his skin.

He preferred the crowbar.

“Not a bomb or trap. What’s the problem, then?” Batman asked.

Now that he had Batman’s attention, Jason didn’t have to talk. He could communicate in Morse Code — something Batman taught all his Robins.

_ Don’t. Touch. Me. _

It wasn’t perfect with the rattling of the chains as Jason tapped his remaining boot on the ground, but it was clear enough to get his point across.

Batman took a step back, even as a grimace overtook the part of his face that was visible. “Robin,” Batman ordered, “come free Ho—”

“No!” Jason croaked out, and then winced.

It wasn’t an issue of it being Batman versus Robin, of him still being pissed at Bruce. Not now.

“Why is my assistance forbidden?” Robin asked. 

It probably would have fooled anyone who didn’t know him, but Jason could hear the thread of hurt in Damian’s voice. Two months ago, Jason would have allowed him to help. But two months ago, Damian was an unpresented-pup. 

Damian was an Alpha now. 

After the Joker had mockingly rubbed his scent all over Jason’s neck time and time again, nails digging into Jason’s scent-glands, cruelly whispering about how he was going to  _ “Mate-Bite” _ Jason before the Bats could rescue him, Jason couldn’t stand the thought of an Alpha touching his throat — not even to get him out of the chains.

Not unless it was Tim.

If anyone else in the Pack did, Jason knew he would go into Omega-Shock and collapse.

_ Red Robin, _ he tapped out.

“He’s safe,” Nightwing said in a rush. “Whatever the Joker told you isn’t true, Hood. Red Robin’s safe.”

Jason rolled his eyes. Then again, he was their Pack Omega. They were probably running mostly on instinct at this point: find and save and return to den.

So, patiently, Jason tapped it out again,  _ Red Robin. _

“He was in San Francisco with the Titans, Hood. He’s on his way, but it’ll take him a while. Let me—” Batman said.

_ No! Red Robin, _ Jason tapped furiously. Just once — couldn’t B listen just one blasted time? Was that really too much to ask for? How many Alphas did it take to smell the Joker’s disgusting scent on his neck? The terror-agony wasn’t that overpowering, was it? 

“Come on, Little Wing. Let us help,” Nightwing pleaded.

If Dick were a Beta, Jason maybe could have allowed it. Maybe. But Dick wasn’t and he couldn’t.

_ No. _

“That’s enough, Hood. We’re releasing you and taking you home for medical attention. Stop being stubborn,” Batman commanded.

Jason glared up at Batman with all his rage and rasped out, as fast as possible, before they could touch him, “If you touch me without my consent, I’ll sever our Pack Bonds and hate all of you until the day I  _ die again.” _

The absolute rage that poured off Batman, Nightwing, and Robin at his declaration overpowered their scent-blocking patches. Robin spun and kicked the Joker in the ribs so hard that it propelled the Joker back several feet; neither Batman or Nightwing admonished him for it.

“Little Wing, tell me  _ he didn’t.” _

_ He didn’t. _

But that didn’t mean the Joker  _ wouldn’t have. _ Just the thought of what might have happened if they hadn’t shown up when they did made Jason want to throw up.

They didn’t have time to react to that, because there was the sound of a sonic boom and then Superboy was setting Red Robin down on the floor. 

Jason sagged against the chains and lost the battle with his emotions. A few tears slipped down his cheeks. Tim was here. He was finally safe. This hellish day was over.

_ “What the hell?” _

Red Robin stomped on the Joker’s back as he rushed to Jason’s side. It was only the work of a few moments for Tim to pick the lock that Jason had been unable to reach. The heavy chains clanked as he unwound them and dropped them on the ground.

“I got here as fast as I could,” Tim said.

Jason smiled at him and rasped, “I know.”

“Why is Red Robin allowed to touch him?” Damian huffed, hands fisted.

“I don’t know,” Dick answered out of the corner of his mouth.

Tim’s gaze trailed down Jason, pausing on his neck — which was surely bruised, and possibly had marks from the Joker’s tongue and teeth. Jason wanted to hurl just thinking about it. The only Alpha he ever wanted marking up his neck was Tim.

“Superboy, tell Superman that I’m calling in the favor,” Tim stated, his voice on the edge of being a murderous growl.

Jason wanted to curl up in his nest with Tim lying over him like an Alpha-blanket. Without the protective weight and scent, he didn’t think he would be able to sleep without nightmares. The very last thing he needed right now was for his mind to play out in graphic detail what might have happened to him if his Packmates had been any later in rescuing him.

Nightwing gasped and Batman tensed, which made him tense too. Jason had no idea what favor Tim was referencing. Given Dick’s and Bruce’s reactions, it was something serious.

_ “The _ favor?” Superboy asked.

“Yes,  _ the _ favor.” 

“What do you want?” 

“The Joker in the Phantom Zone,” Tim bit out, frostbite-rage in every syllable.

“Your wish is my command, Fearless Leader,” Superboy said. “I’ve got this. Stay with your Mate.” 

He grabbed the Joker and flew off before Batman could object.

Jason’s hands shook as he realized what that would mean. No more Joker. Ever. No more looking over his shoulder for his personal clown-boogeyman who wanted to break Batman’s birdies, no more cackling laughter drifting out of the shadows on patrol, no more crowbars covered in his blood. No more.

“Fa-Batman, what did the Clone mean by that? Did you give D-Red Robin permission to Mate with Hood?”

“No,” Batman said.

The whiteouts on Damian’s domino mask narrowed as he pointed threateningly at Tim. “Until you petition F-Batman for permission and receive it, you are forbidden from touching—”

Tim sat on Jason’s lap and tilted his head gently. Jason melted into his touch, ignoring the arguing happening between his other Packmates. He didn’t care how they dealt with this revelation. But he would raise holy hell if they tried to separate him and Tim. Jason needed Tim to wipe away the Joker’s scent and touch.

He needed to not smell that insane monster on his own skin.

“He’s never touching you again,” Tim promised, before gently and insistently licking Jason’s neck, covering up the Joker’s scent and marks with his own.

“I shall skin you alive for besmirching his—”

Jason watched the rest of the Bat Pack over Tim’s head, through eyes closed to slits, and let him. Reveled in the warm, wet heat that washed away the Joker’s filthy touch.

Tim Drake was  _ the best _ kind of Alpha. And he was Jason Todd’s.


End file.
